


The Watching Hour

by elyndys



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: AU, Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyndys/pseuds/elyndys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maru is a ghosthunter, Yoko has a ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Watching Hour

“Excuse me! Hey!”

Maru doesn’t look round. Like so often, he pretends he doesn’t know that it’s obviously him whose attention they want to attract; pretends he’s just a normal guy, out having a drink.

“Hey you! Yeah, you with the chin!”

Maru nearly chokes, then swears at himself because now the game’s up. Even the drunkest heckler would know they’ve found their target.

The guy who slides into the booth opposite him doesn’t seem nearly as drunk as some of the people who approach Maru on his occasional evenings out, but he still asks “It _is_ you, isn’t it?” He sounds almost suspicious, as if he hasn’t just yelled at Maru persistently across a quiet bar.

Mary wants to tell him to piss off – he could pretend it’s because he doesn’t want to be disturbed, but he’s usually quite patient, even with the belligerent types, and he knows that it’s just the chin jibe that’s put him off talking to this particular random guy.

He manages to restrain himself, for the sake of his public image, and asks “Who? Who am I?” in a tone he hopes could pass for a joke.

Luckily the guy seems like he’s just drunk _enough_ that he doesn’t seem to notice Maru’s air of coldness. “You’re that guy off the TV!” he exclaims, as if Maru hadn’t even spoken. “The ghost guy!”

Maru knows from experience that it’s not worth trying to deny it, not when these guys have had a few drinks. It just leads to protracted arguments, and if he gives in right away he can just save himself the hassle. “That’s me,” he says, raising his beer glass with as much of a smile as he can muster. Sometimes he wonders if maybe admitting it will put people off, maybe they won’t believe him and leave him alone. It’s never happened yet, but Maru keeps hoping.

This guy just takes it as an invitation to sit down, and he slides into the booth opposite Maru. That part doesn’t usually happen – usually the men are content to stand next to him and tell him cockily, “It’s all a load of bollocks, really, ain’t it?” and Maru can only really respond with an “Mm, well,” rather than pointing out that, for a show that’s ‘a load of bollocks’, the number of guys who greet him in the street or in bars with similar words shows that they must still find it entertaining enough to watch. (Even if he mentioned it, he’s certain the response would be “It’s my girlfriend, she always has it on!” Maru has another “Mm, well” prepared for the day he finally snaps and says something out loud.)

Somehow this guy doesn’t seem like the rest of them, though. When he meets Maru’s gaze, he doesn’t look like a piss-taker; he seems serious. Even – and Maru rolls his eyes at himself for even thinking it – haunted.

“Listen,” the guy says confidentially. “You might be able to help me.” He looks so serious that Maru feels the urge to laugh inappropriately rising.

“I’m not sure if –” he begins with a smile, aiming for somewhere between ‘kind’ and ‘politely disinterested’.

“I’ve got a ghost in my house,” the guy says, straight out and serious-faced.

Maru shuts his mouth. This is a far cry from the usual bravado and less-than-open-minded scepticism. It’s nothing unusual for people to tell him their own personal ghost experiences; but they’re usually not young guys, and he’s never heard anyone sound that certain. “Really?” he says, still keeping himself on the line between safe distance and appearing to take a professional interest.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” says the guy sullenly.

Maru doesn’t want to get punched, so he summons more enthusiasm and says “No, of course I do. Tell me about your ghost.” He gives the guy a friendly smile to show willing. At any rate, this is better than being told his job is a waste of everyone’s money and brain cells. “What does it look like?”

“Haven’t seen it.”

Maru takes a drink of beer. “Have you seen any evidence of it? Things moved around, for example?”

“Well, my apartment’s not the neatest… but I haven’t noticed anything like that.”

“Have you heard it? Voices, footsteps?”

“…No.”

Maru is re-evaluating his opinion of this guy’s status regarding time-wasting. “So why exactly do you think there’s a ghost?” he says, barely able to hide the testiness in his tone.

“I can feel it.”

Maru pauses.

The guy clicks his tongue. “See, I knew you didn’t believe me. Stupid sham show, all people freaking out over made-up shit, but when you get the chance to hunt a _real_ ghost, oh, no, it’s no good!”

“No,” Maru interrupts, more gently. “No, I’m sorry. Can you… tell me _how_ you feel it? Is it cold? Warm?”

The guy seems exasperated. “No, no, I just… know it’s there.”

“Like you’re being watched?”

“Yeah! Something like that.”

Maru nods. “Can you tell me any more? Like, do you feel it often, or only at certain times – ”

“I just… sometimes it’s just _there_. It’s affecting my life, y’know! It’s why I don’t have a girlfriend! I can’t even read a dirty magazine with that… with it there!”

Maru ducks his head, rubs the back of his neck. “Certainly sounds like a problem,” he says weakly.

The guy leans over the table towards him, adamant. “It is! I need an exorcist or something! Can you do that?”

Maru stares helplessly. “Well, it’s not really – ”

“I know you can!” The guy interrupts smugly. “I saw you do it once before! At some old temple on Shikoku!” The guy winks at him with a triumphant grin. “You ‘sent someone to the light’ or something.”

“That wasn’t really me, y’know,” Maru hastily points out. “That was Matsuoka-san! Our medium!”

That doesn’t seem to put the guy off. “But you know about ghosts and all that too, I know you do! You always say you can feel when something’s there! And anyway, Matsuoka’s not here now, is he?”

Maru swallows. “When you say _now…_ ” he starts apprehensively. “You… want me to do something about this now?”

“I’m not going to let this chance get away, am I? My house is just round the corner too!” He gets up and looks at Maru expectantly.

Maru knew he shouldn’t have come out alone. He just wanted a quiet drink, not to be dragged into anything strange, for once in his life! Maru’s no good at excuses, he can’t think of a single one _not_ to go along with this random stranger; and to be honest, he’s kind of interested now. Damn his inquisitive nature! He gets up slowly, and his companion beams.

“My name’s Yokoyama, by the way,” he says conversationally as they head out of the bar.

“Nice to meet you,” Maru says automatically. “I’m Maruyama.”

“I know that,” Yokoyama says, giggling more than he really needs to. “But, nice to meet you too,” he adds, and Maru has to accept he has _some_ manners.

Yokoyama wasn’t lying – his apartment is just a few minutes walk away, though it is on the fifth floor and there’s no lift. It’s an old block – Maru would have turned round and gone back to the bar if it had been new – and what strikes him most immediately is the silence of it.

“It’s just you is it? Living here?” he asks softly as Yokoyama opens the door.

“No, I’ve got six kids as well – they have a cupboard each, all to themselves,” he jokes.

Maru smiles but doesn’t laugh. The whole block feels lonely. One small main room, thin walls and ceilings – low-wage workers, working long hours, living alone.

“I don’t have space for a ghost,” Yokoyama says, and though he’s laughing, Maru can believe it. There’s no way to escape it, no-where to hide.

He looks around to get a feel for the place. There’s a photo on top of the little TV – a lady with three grinning teenage boys, and an older man, smiling even wider than they are. Maru doesn’t know whether it’s more impertinent to ask or to assume – these facts are the tools of his trade after all, and not to ask seems deceptive if, as they say, it’s something he later relies on.

“Is that your family?” he says at last.

“Yeah!” Yokoyama says, a smile spreading over his face. “My mum and brothers and my granddad and me. I think I must’ve been… 17 in that picture? We were in Hokkaido. That was the last time we all went on holiday together,” he explains, as if he thinks Maru needs to know.

Maru watches him and smiles, and doesn’t ask anything else. “If we’re going to find your ghost, we should probably start with a vigil,” he says.

“Hey, it’s not _my_ ghost,” Yokoyama says, eyes widening. “I’m still in the world of the living, don’t get any ideas! I know my place is old-fashioned and stuff, but that’s just ‘cos I’m poor!”

Maru laughs and pats him on the shoulder. “Easy, I believe you’re alive, it’s OK,” he says, and Yokoyama moves right on, pretends Maru didn’t even speak.

“So, a vigil… Is that where you turn the lights off, and ask ‘Is there anybody there’?” asks Yokoyama, complete with spooky voice.

Maru never uses a spooky voice, but he nods. “That’s right. We can sit at your little table there, and then we can start by joining hands and calling out. There’s other things we can do too, if it seems like we’re not getting anywhere, but that’s a good place to start,” he explains. It actually helps that Yokoyama has watched his show – at least he knows the formula for what to do. It’s as much as Maru’s going to do in a situation like this, anyway.

Yokoyama eyes him. “So we’re going to sit in the dark holding hands?”

Maru does this several times a month, he’s used to it, so the question surprises him a little. “Yes, that’s what we do. Is there a problem?”

Yokoyama chuckles, shakes his head. “No, no problem.” He clears a space and puts the table in the middle of the floor, with enough room for them to sit across from each other. He sits down, gesturing Maru to do the same. He holds out one hand and meets Maru’s gaze solemnly as he takes it, reaching up and turning off the light.

For a moment it’s pitch black, and Maru feels for Yokoyama’s other hand on the table. When he reaches it, he can feel Yokoyama start just a little.

“It can be a little spooky at first, if you’re not used to it,” he murmurs. “But try and… still your mind, quiet your thoughts.” He’s glad of the darkness, it makes him feel slightly less of an idiot. He may be used to doing this, but he’s too aware now that Yokoyama isn’t, and suddenly it seems as ridiculous as Yokoyama seems to think it is. He hears Yokoyama snort quietly, but he doesn’t say anything.

After a couple of minutes – if that – Yokoyama whispers loudly, “When do we start asking?”

“Concentrate,” Maru says patiently. “Just… listen. Try and think about the feeling you get when you can tell the ghost’s around.”

Maru’s eyes are used to the dark now, and he can make out shapes and glimmers. He stares at Yokoyama’s outline, catches the glint of his eyes.

Yokoyama starts to giggle.

Maru takes his hands back and sighs. “We don’t have to do this, y’know. If you’re not going to be serious, you won’t find out anything!”

“No, I’ll be good!” protests Yokoyama. “Just let me get all my giggling out of my system first, OK?”

Maru waits until Yokoyama is done sniggering. He leaves his hands palm up on the table, trying to tune Yokoyama out, to feel the room around him.

“Is it OK if we don’t hold hands this time?” Yokoyama asks; to his credit, he sounds suitably sheepish. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to keep a straight face…”

“Sure, that’s OK,” says Maru, just keen to get on with it. “You can close your eyes too if you like. Or leave them open. Whichever makes you feel more comfortable.”

Yokoyama’s eyes are still open when Maru closes his. “Now, you just have to relax. If you feel anything, tell me.”

He can _feel_ Yokoyama trying not to giggle again. At least he’s trying this time. Maru waits. Just a few minutes, because he knows that Yokoyama is likely to break down anytime soon, and then he says, “Now I’m going to start calling out.”

Yokoyama doesn’t say anything, so Maru opens his eyes and begins. “Is there anyone here with us? If there’s any spirit present, we mean you no harm – please give us a sign.”

Yokoyama doesn’t make a sound. The room is silent.

“Is there anyone here? If you can, let us know that you can hear us – make a noise, show us a light, touch one of us. Anything you can do.”

They sit, and some time passes. Maru listens.

“Would you like to try?” he asks Yokoyama softly.

“Me? I don’t know what to do!” Yokoyama sounds vaguely panicked.

“Just say the same things I’ve been saying. Explain how it makes you feel, having them in your space,” Maru suggests gently.

Yokoyama takes a deep breath in the darkness. “Um… if there’s someone here… I don’t know who you are, or why you’re in my apartment, but…” He pauses, and when he goes on Maru is surprised by how soft his voice is. “Do you want me to do something for you? Is that what it is?”

 _Or what if,_ Maru wonders, _there’s something that it wants to do for Yokoyama?_

Maru listens, tries to pick up any tiny sound or movement, but all he’s aware of is Yokoyama, only 50 centimetres or so away across the table. He can even hear him breathing if he listens hard enough.

“Please give us a sign,” Maru murmurs.

Silence. Maru, to his surprise, feels the hairs on the back of his arms standing on end. He doesn’t think he would want to lie here in the dark, on the floor, alone, knowing he had to be awake at 6am and wondering when he’d be able to fall asleep.

“It’s not usually this quiet,” whispers Yokoyama. “Usually you can hear creaking and people snoring and stuff.”

Maybe it’s just the sound of Yokoyama’s whisper in the darkness, but Maru can feel his skin prickle. Feels sweat bead on his forehead and slide down his temple.

“This is what it’s like,” goes on Yokoyama. His whisper is even quieter now, nervy in the darkness. “When I… feel it.”

Maru holds his breath. He knows the room is tiny, but when he closes his eyes it could be fifty metres all around him. So empty, so still, so quiet.

“I thought we weren’t going to hold hands,” Yokoyama whispers suddenly.

He sounds like he’s joking, but Maru doesn’t understand. “What?”

“My hand – you touched my hand, right?”

Maru freezes in place, thrilled. “No! No, I didn’t.”

As Yokoyama is muttering “Maybe I imagined it,” Maru feels it too. Just a light touch, a breath; if he were anyone else, he might think he imagined it too. A draught, or an insect, light on the back of his right hand.

He wishes Matsuoka-san was here now! Maru feels exhilarated, so excited he’s got a result, even without the expert help he usually has! He’d never imagined he could have this sort of experience, on a random Saturday night at a stranger’s apartment. (He decides not to say that part out loud – he gets the feeling Yokoyama would laugh rather a lot.)

“Can we stop?” Yokoyama says faintly.

Maru wants to shout, they can’t stop now! Not now, when they’re getting somewhere! This is just the start! But he forces himself to hold back, makes himself see it from Yokoyama’s point of view. He’s the one who has to live here, wondering what that sound is or whether it really is cold in here. This can’t be making it any easier for him.

“Sure,” he says softly, trying to mask his disappointment. “I’m sorry, are you OK?” He sometimes forgets that not everyone is as accustomed to this as he is. Even before he was accustomed to it, Maru still wasn’t afraid. It’s just always been something that’s been around him.

“Can I turn the light on? You don’t need to, I dunno, ‘close down the circle’ or anything?” Yokoyama asks.

“No no, it wasn’t like we had a séance,” Maru explains, hoping that doesn’t sound too pointed. He feels frustrated somehow, wishes more than anything right now he could’ve found out more about whoever was with them.

Yokoyama pulls the cord for the light, and Maru almost expects nothing to happen, almost finds himself wishing for it. But the light comes on, and Maru blinks across the table at Yokoyama, who looks too pale in the sudden yellowness. Maru is surprised how small the room is again. How normal.

He can’t contain himself. “That was brilliant,” he says, trying to keep his voice sensible, but he can’t stop the smile on his face. “Something _really touched you_?”

Yokoyama giggles nervously. “Well, you see, about that…”

The smile slips off Maru’s face. Maybe it was just a draught after all. He doesn’t know this apartment at all, but it won’t be well-insulated. Maybe there are even roaches.

Yokoyama giggles louder, more high-pitched. “I lied. I made it up!”

Maru fixed his eyes on Yokoyama’s face. “Did… did you touch me, too?”

Yokoyama hesitates for a long moment, staring right back at Maru. “Yeah,” he says eventually, his voice sort of hoarse. “Yeah, I did,” he repeats, louder, a grin twitching the corner of his mouth.

“Which hand did you touch?” asks Maru automatically.

Yokoyama looks at him, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. “I don’t know. It was dark.”

Maru nods. That’s enough. “I should’ve known,” he says, looking up at the ceiling. But Yokoyama had been so dead-serious, right from the start. There was no way Maru would’ve suspected.

“Aren’t you… going to ask me why, or anything?” Yokoyama asks, somewhere between incredulous and timid.

Maru shakes his head, chuckles. “Would you tell me? The truth?” He’s letting Yokoyama off the hook, but it doesn’t seem worth putting him on the spot.

Yokoyama doesn’t answer, just laughs, a little nervously at first, but when he speaks he sounds full of bravado. “It was pretty easy to get you here, y’know! I could’ve been anyone, a crazy stalker or something!”

“You’d have to be pretty crazy to stalk me,” says Maru, with a very small grin.

“Yeah, well.” Yokoyama grins too, looking a little relieved. “You’re a celebrity! You should be careful!”

It never even occurred to Maru to be afraid. It never does. “Yeah, next time I won’t follow a random guy to his house, no matter how interesting his ghost sounds.”

Yokoyama shifts uneasily. “Look… you’re not, y’know, pissed off with me for bringing you back here? Y’know, wasting your time like this.” He sounds like it’s the very first time he’s even considered the possibility that Maru might be mad. For someone who reckons to have just conned him, Yokoyama is surprisingly friendly and remorseful. It’s so surreal Maru almost wants to laugh.

He smiles gently. “It’s not a waste of my time at all,” he says. “I’ve enjoyed myself.”

“Really?” Yokoyama sounds highly sceptical. “I can’t even pay you for investigating my place. Next time bring a camera, you can pay me to put it on TV!”

“But you don’t have any ghosts,” Maru reminds him.

“Ah, you’re right,” Yokoyama says, nodding. “I bet you could make it look like I did for TV, though, right?”

“Oh yes,” says Maru, smiling.

Yokoyama laughs quietly. “I’m sorry I dragged you up to my shitty apartment for nothing, though. I’m such a dick sometimes, I just don’t realise it. Let me buy you a drink or something next time. I dunno if you know round here at all…” he leaves it hanging in such a way that Maru has to fill the gap.

“Not much. I was in the city for work. I live in Kyoto,” he explains, though he knows he doesn’t really need to.

Yokoyama doesn’t comment, just nods, goes on. “Well, there’s a great old bar not far from here, I’ve heard some pretty creepy stories about it. I’ll take you there, buy you a drink. They do a great fried rice too.”

Maru smiles. “Ghosts aren’t a requirement. I do go to un-haunted places on occasion,” he says wryly. “We can go somewhere modern if you prefer.” _I bet you’ve had enough spookiness anyway, living here,_ he wants to add, before he catches himself.

Yokoyama laughs. “Fair enough. Look, you’re probably sick of it here already, I would be, but d’you want a drink, make it worth your time? Nothing exciting, only beer, but…” He’s voice is kind of loud, like he’s too relieved that Maru hasn’t punched him and stormed out. If things were different, Maru thinks he probably would have.

Maru nods, smiles. “Sure.” He accepts the bottle when Yokoyama passes it to him out of a tiny fridge. “I guess I can see why you did bring me up here. I’d want some company too. Some human company,” he adds, more quietly than he says the rest.

“Are you suggesting I’ve got no friends?” demands Yokoyama, grinning.

Maru gestures with his beer. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “But I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to invite people round so often. There’s definitely an… atmosphere,” he adds diplomatically.

Yokoyama looks at him suspiciously. “It’s cold and damp, if that’s what you mean. If I get scared, it’s only ’cos I’m an idiot.”

“Still, you’ve got to be curious, right? Old, creaky place like this,” Maru persists. “I’d’ve got a psychic in too.”

“And I thought you weren’t a psychic?”

“I’m not _a_ psychic.”

Yokoyama bursts out laughing. “I don’t understand any of this. I mean, when you think about it, it’s all a load of bollocks really, isn’t it? Right?”

Maru looks right at him. Yokoyama looks suddenly serious, like he’s really asking for Maru’s opinion.

He pauses, watches Yokoyama’s face. Everyone believes what they want to believe, and Maru wants to believe. He wouldn’t if he were Yokoyama though, not in this lonely box of a home. It’s not so easy to admit you’re afraid.

Maybe he’s mistaken. Maybe Yokoyama really is just like all the other piss-takers who ask him the same thing, but with a sneer and not a trace of doubt. Maru’s good at seeing things that other people don’t. Things that, some might say, aren’t there at all. Maybe that’s what’s he’s doing now, when he looks at Yokoyama’s face.

Yokoyama is staring, eyes wide, face blank. Maru realises just how long he’s been quiet.

He takes a drink of beer. “Mm, well,” he says, and when he smiles, Yokoyama does too.


End file.
